Summary: Emotional, thought-provoking, and outlandish, The Substance serves as an excellent introduction to the Halloween season while leaving a lasting impression with its sharp social commentary.
I’m a fear-monger when it comes to my health. It takes a lot of courage to admit this. I have recurring nightmares about my teeth falling out and I worry that if I hold my jaw open too long at the dentist’s office, it might stay that way. I hate needles and blood and surely, every joint crack means that I’ve developed early-onset rheumatoid arthritis. I’ve been doing the internal work to overcome these fears and, sometimes, I feel like I’m making real progress. That is, until The Substance reminded me of my anxieties, sending me back to square one.
The film centers around Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore), a once-famous Hollywood star whose career has taken a downturn. After being fired from her popular aerobics TV show by an opportunistic producer, Harvey (Dennis Quaid), in favor of a younger replacement, Elisabeth struggles to accept her fading relevance at 50. Her fortunes change when she discovers a black-market serum that creates a younger, more beautiful version of herself. She injects the substance and endures a painful and grotesque duplication process, resulting in the emergence of her new persona, Sue (Margaret Qualley). The catch? The two versions must switch back every seven days. As Sue rises to stardom, she becomes addicted to the allure of youth and attention, disregarding the crucial "every seven days" rule. This leads to a dangerous imbalance, with Elisabeth aging rapidly as Sue "borrows" more time from her. Despite being two sides of the same coin, they begin sabotaging each other, leading to escalating body distortion and violence.
The Substance is a dream-like expression of writer-director Coralie Fargeat’s filmmaking sensibilities and also her innermost anxieties. Through claustrophobic hallway scenes and disorienting fisheye perspectives, The Substance blends familiarity and otherworldliness remiscent of David Lynch and Stanley Kubrick. Where Fargeat diverges from her movie inspirations, however, is in her personal flavor of crazy. Just when you think the film has reached peak grotesqueness, Fargeat takes you to a stratospheric level of macabre. For the audience, the experience is akin to strapping into a roller coaster that plummets at a near-vertical descent for two hours with no sense of relief at any point.
The closest sense of relief comes when Elisabeth, struggling to accept her present self, is asked out on a date and called 'still the most beautiful girl ever.' Elisabeth looks at herself in the mirror, adjusts her makeup, and for a brief instant, she likes what she sees. Just as it seems she’s ready to step outside, her expression shifts. Panic sets in and the hope vanishes. It’s one the most unsuspectingly emotional scenes in the film (good job, Demi Moore).
Horror has proven itself to be a reliable and effective way of addressing challenging topics and The Substance meaningfully contributes to the genre’s growing sophistication. At the heart of The Substance is Fargeat’s own internal fears around aging and womanhood. She explains to Inverse that, “The idea came from living in my own life as a woman past my 40s, approaching my 50s. I started to have those very violent thoughts that it was going to be the end of my life because I wouldn't be able to be valued as a young, sexy girl.” We see this with Elisabeth and her going to extreme lengths to be young and relevant while the men around her have been allowed to age. This pressure is not confined to Hollywood; many women—men too but to a lesser extent—engage in extensive beauty routines. We follow 10-step skincare regimens to slow down signs of aging and we dye our hair to hide gray strands. Why do we care about this in the first place? Fargeat answers this when she introduces the shareholders of the entertainment company, who are, surprise surprise, old white men. Women want to be these things because that’s what men want.
What makes The Substance particularly emotional is that it’s not merely a rehashing of and commentary on the “women are supposed to be this and that” issue. Amidst the needles, body horror, and grotesque imagery, Elisabeth's internal struggles resonate intensely. In public, she conceals herself behind sunglasses and a heavy coat, an odd choice for the sweltering heat of Los Angeles. She shrinks away as if apologizing for her very existence. What’s especially difficult to watch is that even within the supposed safety of her own home, Elisabeth is entirely consumed by self loathing. She ruminates on her shame so deeply that the viewer wonders if she can ever climb out of it.
Emotional, thought-provoking, and outlandish, The Substance serves as an excellent introduction to the Halloween season while leaving a lasting impression with its sharp social commentary.
The Substance stands out as one of the best films of 2024. Yet, given that I closed my eyes during half the film, I find myself not wanting to see it ever again.